


Depressed Bastard

by genericfanatic



Series: Worry [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Langst, Suicidal Thoughts, discussion of suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genericfanatic/pseuds/genericfanatic
Summary: Hunk is on a mission, so it's up to Pidge to look out for Lance when his depression acts up in the middle of the night.





	Depressed Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't read the tags, do so now. This probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the first fic in the series "Don't Worry About It." 
> 
> Take care while reading, the whole thing is basically just talking about suicide.

“Are you sure you want ME to be doing this?” Pidge asked.

Hunk packed up the yellow lion with supplies. “If you don’t want to, I can ask someone else.”

“I mean…” Pidge swallowed, “It’s not a matter of want, I just…I mean I’m not the most comforting person.”

Ever since Lance’s…incident…Hunk had become a part of Lance’s shadow. They were together nearly constantly, and the rest of the team let them have that, because it seemed to earnestly be helping Lance. But they couldn’t be together FOREVER. Hunk and Keith, already experts on retrieving scaltrite from weblums, they were going to go and retrieve a new supply. So Hunk asked Pidge to step in, just in case Lance needed her. “You’ve known him longest,” Hunk argued.

“Barely,” Pidge said, “And the Garrison doesn’t really count, cause I kinda…pushed you both away.” She felt guilty about that now, but didn’t want to emphasize it too much. “And what if I say the wrong thing?” 

“Well, clearly, you’ll scar him for life,” Hunk said. Pidge’s eyes went so wide, she looked like an owl. Hunk snorted, looking at her, “I’m kidding. Listen, Lance already knows all the words there are out there to say. There isn’t a sentence you can string together that’s going to magically solve his problems, so don’t try. Give comfort when you can, but honestly, BEING there is going to be way more important right now.”

Pidge was still unsure, but agreed, and Hunk told Lance to call her if he needed anything. 

 

It was late into the night, and Pidge was coding. Even she was considering turning in based on how tired she was. 

She woke up quickly when her communicator buzzed. Swallowing, her bloodstream filling with adrenaline and her nerves bouncing out of her skin, she answered. “Lance?”

“Hey…” He said softly, his voice coming out strained and broken. “Can you, um…”

“I’ll be right there,” She cut him off. Should she have done that? Should she have let him continue? Or… 

She sighed, grabbing her laptop and making her way down to Lance’s room. Taking a deep breath and clutching her laptop tight, she knocked. After a soft “come in,” the door slid open and she made her way inside. 

Lance was sitting on the bed, clutching his arms to his sides. His hair was wet, along with patches on his clothes, like he didn’t dry off properly. She couldn’t tell if he’d been crying or not. “Hey, Pidgey,” he said. Normally he’d scold her for use of the nickname, but let it slide. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Pidge, said, stepping closer. She was glad she thought to bring her laptop with her, so she had something for her hands to do, “I was already up on my computer, so…no sweat.”

Lance’s brows creased into a frown, “You haven’t slept at all?” he said, “Oh, gosh, you should go to bed, you’ll be passed out tomorrow and—“

“Lance,” Pidge said, sitting on the bed. Was she invading his space? No…this was fine…right? “I’ll be fine. What is it?”

Lance shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Just…kinda thought I shouldn’t be alone right now.” He swallowed, “bad dream, so I thought I’d calm down with a bath and…” he gave a little shrug. Pidge didn’t press. “Anyway. Just. You can sleep or work on your computer or whatever I just…” He shrugged again. He was shaking where he sat. 

Pidge scooched closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” Lance shook his head emphatically. “You…want a hug or something?”

Lance thought for a second. “Not…not right now. Maybe in a bit.”

Pidge nodded. 

The both of them sat in silence. Awkward, awkward silence. Lance was in a staring contest with his knees. Pidge watched him, looking for signs and trying to…diagnose him or something. Try and figure him out like he was one of her machines. 

Lance shuffled a bit, staring at the wall beside him. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, softly. 

Pidge swallowed, “Do what?”

“Treat me like I’m porcelain.” Lance said, “I swear I’m…well, I’m not fine, but I’m not going to just break apart, you know.”

Pidge bowed her head, sheepish. “Ah…sorry,” She said, “I just…I know some things I say…have said…I…I’m not very good with people.” 

Lance smirked. “That’s a good starting place. Admitting it, I mean. That you don’t know what to do.” He took a deep breath, “Truth be told, I don’t really know what to do with me either.”

Pidge scooched closer again. “What does Hunk usually do?” 

Lance threw his head back, thinking. “Well…to start out with he usually like…talks to me about whatever’s on his mind. Just little things, you know. Talks me through recipes and engineering problems…Yellow, Shay, the team, everything.”

Pidge nods, listening. “Hmm. I don’t have much that’d be interesting.” Pidge thought for a second, “I mean, I was just coding, but I don’t know…” She trailed of, not sure how to finish her sentence. 

“Don’t know if I can keep up?” Lance said with a smirk. 

“I didn’t say that!” Pidge argued. She didn’t say it…but Lance really wasn’t good with coding stuff. Or…well, computer stuff. He usually just kinda fazed out whenever she started talking. “Just…I know my stuff doesn’t really interest you.” A horrifying thought passed through her mind. “Lance…do you not like me talking about this kind of stuff because it makes you feel…uh…”

“Dumber?” Lance supplied. Pidge nodded, grateful she didn’t have to finish. “Sometimes,” he said, “sometimes just subconsciously. But no one else seems to understand either, which helps me.”

Pidge chews on her inner cheek, a question screaming in her mind, but not wanting to say it. Maybe it would make things worse…or maybe she just wouldn’t want the answer. “Pidge,” Lance said, tilting his head to try and get a better look at her, “Look…I know you’re uncomfortable with all of this. If you want to get Shiro or Allura its okay, I know this…I’m…a lot to handle right now.”

“It’s…it’s not that,” she said, “Well okay, it is that, but its also not, and I just don’t…I don’t wanna say the wrong thing.”

“I told you,” Lance said frustrated, “I’m not a doll or something. I’m still Lance. Just a Lance that’s kinda wondering about how long I can really hold my breath underwater before I drown.”

Pidge visibly winced, the word ‘drown’ sending chills down her spine. Lance noted her discomfort and mumbled a “Sorry.”

Pidge swallowed, trying to compose herself. “You…” she didn’t want to say it, like her words were a block in jenga she was afraid might knock down the tower if said aloud, “You…want to…you know…right now?”

Lance’s face screwed up, and Pidge held her breath. He seemed to be more ‘mulling over the question’ rather than ‘my entire psyche is destroyed by my friend’s question.’ “It’s not…want, really. Or maybe it is. I dunno.” He scratched his face. “It’s more like…I’m thinking about it. A lot. And then I start arguing with myself about why I can or can’t, should, shouldn’t, and that internal argument kinda leaves me…heavy. Like, I can’t do anything, can’t move, can’t even breath sometimes.” As if to demonstrate, he takes a deep breath.

“So…that night with the cleaning liquid…”

“I lost the argument.” Lance said, “Or won…depending on the way you look at it. If the thing you’re fighting is yourself, you kinda both win and lose either way.”

Pidge idly tapped her computer. “I don’t really see how it’s a win.”

Lance shrugs. “It’s…weird. Strangely enough, sometimes it feels like, like dying is the right thing. An almost noble thing.” Pidge’s eyes welled up. She didn’t even realize until her face went blurry. “I’m sorry,” Lance said, “I don’t mean to scare you. I’m right here, I promise. And as long as you’re here, I won’t do anything. No matter what I think of me, I wouldn’t do a thing like that to you.”

“I just…” Pidge sniffled. She still wasn’t sure if she should ask this, but Lance made her swear not to treat him like a breakable thing, “I just…did I…did something I said…or did…or something…did I like, drive you to it?”

“Oh Pidge…” Lance opened his arms, inviting her in. She accepted the invitation, curling up to his chest. “Oh, oh Pidge. It’s…it’s not as simple as that.”

“That’s not a ‘no’.”

“It’s not a ‘yes’, either.” Lance stroked her hair like he might a cat. “It’s just honestly not that simple. My brain…it takes things that other people say and twists them. It filters out all the good and the teasing, and it gives all the bad stuff, all the well-intentioned jabs a megaphone. And then it puts it on a loop.” He pat her head. “It’s not that I want all the teasing to stop. I really don’t. It actually kinda makes me feel guilty when I know you’re stepping on eggshells around me.” He sighs. “It’s all freaking contradictory. I want things to go back to the way they were, and I don’t at the same time. And sure, maybe I’d like to hear some more positive things about me, but also whenever I hear them I always feel like people are lying.”

Pidge clutched his shirt, balling her hand into a fist. “You’re always like…really happy when that happens though. Like, when people compliment you and stuff.”

Lance froze above her, and she looked into his face. “Ah…yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “That…uh…Hunk calls that ‘deflection.’ Or…something. I don’t remember. Point is, that its…it’s easier to make people stop complimenting you if you’re kinda obnoxious about it.” He smiled fake innocently. 

Pidge felt…kinda devastated. Every time he would say something narcissistic, she was right there with an eyeroll and a snarky comeback. All those times…and he was just feeling down on himself. “I’m sorry,” She said, holding him. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Hunk,” Lance said, “You’re not telepathic. There’s no logical way you could have known. So…in the end, it’s on me. What I share, what I don’t. When I reach out.” He took a deep breath, “And I don’t want to, always. Reaching out…sucks. It feels more like I’m weak, like I’m giving in, or something.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “the one thing no one tells you is that sometimes choosing to live doesn’t feel like a relief or whatever. Sometimes it kinda sucks.”

Pidge squeezed tighter. “Well…I’m glad you reached out. To me. Tonight. Does that make me selfish?”

Lance shrugged. “Probably the good kinda selfish.” He sighed. “To be honest this much real-talk is kinda getting to me, so…”

“Right.” Pidge said. “Oh! Oh my god, I just realized! We could have been playing video games the whole time!”

Lance released her, “Oh my quiznak you’re right. That’s way better than mushy feelings.” 

“Hey,” Pidge said, poking him in the stomach, “I happen to like your mushy feelings.” Lance blinked, not sure how to respond, “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to crush you, you depressed bastard.”

“Oh, you are ON.”

**Author's Note:**

> So....I definitely didn't plan on making this a series. TBH I didn't really expect to make a second chapter to the first fic, but...look, this is going to be a kinda personal rant, so tl;dr: I have no idea if there's going to be more to this series or not, I'd rather this fic was kinda...free-form. So, like, not something you should expect updates on, but subscribe if you like the possibility of characters talking about suicide?
> 
> Truth be told, the first chapter of 'dont worry about it' was a little...cathartic? In a mean kinda way. I had that image of Hunk holding a possibly dead Lance in my head, like it was branded there. In the projection of my mind, I wanted to punish Hunk for 'not being there' for his friend. Like a 'gotcha' moment. It was mostly a vent fic, to be written, and then stowed away so I could move on. I had originally planned to have a short scene of Lance coming out of the pod and being really distant with Hunk, and Hunk disturbingly realizes that Lance has learned not to depend on him anymore. But, I scrapped that, and ended the fic where I did.   
> (Keep in mind, I do not actually dislike Hunk the character, just what he represented in my mind as I'm projecting all over my writing)  
> Then I got a comment asking for what happens next...and I started writing it...and here's the thing, I've been on both sides of this issue. And, I'm not sure which one fucked me up more.   
> So, having Hunk and Lance talk, really talk, was like two halves of my psyche personified, and it...honestly kinda helped to have it separated like that rather than just crowding around my head. I don't know if it was just this or other things in my life, or just horomones doing a weird roller coaster in me, but I did feel better afterwards, like the fog cleared, even if only temporarily.  
> But, as Fogs do (especially depression fogs), it came back. So, I started writing this as a...a conversation I wish I had with someone. Like Lance, I'm not too comfortable reaching out to people when I'm in distress.   
> Anyway. I think I'm writing this whole end note to say "hey, yeah, I'm a great writer, but this ain't imagination! It's actually me!" in a place I won't get sent to a psych ward or potentially scare my friends. My fantasy is going from Lance as my avatar attempting to kill himself to Lance as my avatar getting help. So...thats good? I think?   
> *sigh* anyway. Like I said, there may be more to this. There may not be. While I like sharing this to...send it off into the void (and I like getting comments, not gonna lie) I just want this to be a free-form kinda thing, to write when I need it for myself.


End file.
